


Shock Sick Is Just Stupid

by TellMeNoAgain



Series: Avengers UnPacked [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Omega Verse, Scenting, Shock Sickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:53:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22982044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMeNoAgain/pseuds/TellMeNoAgain
Summary: Look, people are still encouraging me to have fun in this A/B/O AU, so that's what I'm doing.  You haters leave me alone.  It's playtime.~~~The door to the lab opens and Steve bursts in, saying quickly, “What happened?  Tony?" and sliding to his knees next to Harley, pulling him from Tony’s arms and against his chest, overpowering every other scent with alert-alarmed-apple pie.  “He get hurt?”“Uh, not like that,” says Tony, and Harley shakes his head, don’t say it, Omega.“Please,” he whimpers, finding his voice, “Please, no.”“No, what, pup?” asks Steve, and Harley can feel the rumble start in his chest as his arms tighten around Harley.  “What happened?” he growls through the rumble.  “He’s going into shock state!”
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Darcy Lewis/Jane Foster/Thor, Pepper Potts/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Avengers UnPacked [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623790
Comments: 27
Kudos: 99





	Shock Sick Is Just Stupid

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is what happens when I read a recommended story that turns into reading TEN A/B/O fics, find out that there are no RULES for this shit, and decide, "Well, fuck it, if everyone's having fun in this sandbox, I'm going to, too."
> 
> You don't have to like it, I promise. But I had a whole lot of fun writing it.
> 
> Beta'd by my brave jf4m and mindwiped, who are easily the most courageous people on the planet, because I threw this at them and said JESUS CHRIST I DON'T EVEN KNOW. I'M SORRY, and then they corrected my spelling and caught my errors like the pros they are, anyway.
> 
> I've put links to the fics I read to learn about A/B/O in the end notes of the first story.
> 
> Every remaining mistake and all the broken things about the rules of this AU belongs to me. Me and 3 AM, baby.

Harley glares at the corner of the workshop where his equipment is laying, forlorn and neglected. Sam and Bruce have been absolutely adamant the last week that he needs to learn all of the science stuff related to breed designation and they’ve deputized Peter to teach him and if that’s not just peachy, he doesn’t know what is. His wrench is _right there_ , and Tony makes him work with Peter for a whole hour every day, after he works on the Winter Soldier stuff for Alpha, before he’ll let Harley come mess around tinkering and it’s the worst three hours out of every day, Harley swears. Peter always insists they do it in the lab just in case he needs somebody’s help explaining something, so there’s _shoes_. Now that Harley’s had a taste of wandering around an apartment with his shoes off being nuzzled by everyone, he really extra hates any time he has to wear shoes that doesn’t involve hot metal or schematics.

Harley shifts his head, rolling it over the book he’s flopped onto, because Peter is awful, this is awful, he doesn’t _need_ biology stuff. Peter sighs and says, “So, here, to get an omega male, which _you are_ , _Harley_ , it’s important to know this stuff about yourself, how would you do that?”

“I don’t know,” grunts Harley, “that’s what I’m _sayin’._ I’m never gonna need to know this stuff, Pete, _please_.”

“Do the work,” says Bruce shortly, and Harley rolls his eyes. Tony’s on the other end of the lab/workshop, where Harley wants to be, and he looks over longingly at the schematics on display. Tony ignores his dramatic sigh, and that’s probably fair, concedes Harley. It has been absolute _months_ of no progress on the assassin and there’s been a lot of dramatic, discouraged sighing, he’ll admit it

“Well, how do you get an omega female,” coaxes Peter. “You know that one.”

“The mom’s gotta give an X+, and the dad’s gotta give an X+,” recites Harley.

“Right, omega females have to come from an omega mom and an alpha dad,” agrees Peter. “Because…?”

“Betas don’t have X+s?” asks Harley, shooting into the dark.

“Exactly,” says Peter with satisfaction. Harley would be more proud of himself, except he’s learned getting it right just means Peter will want him to learn _more_ . “So, what do you know about omega _males_ , then, Harley?”

“They’re all of the omega female plus a Y,” recites Harley. He thinks about what he just says and then says, stiffening all over, his stomach twisting suddenly, “Wait. That _can’t_ be right, Peter.”

“No, it is,” Peter assures him. “Because if you have X-X+Y, then you get a bad cross, one of the omega males that has all kinds of issues, they used to be called broken alphas, but we know, because of science, that they’re just omega males who don’t have enough + genes to make both sets of organs functional. And if a baby is X-X-Y, well, those are the sterile beta males, the ones who are kinda… um… soft,” he finishes. But Harley’s not listening, he’s looking at the charts on the page in front of him, heart sinking straight to his boots.

“Yeah, you have to be wrong,” he tells Peter, heart thumping wilder the longer he stares.

“...No?” says Peter, confused. He sniffs the air and then makes a twisted face. He’s 100% suddenly putting out confused marshmallow, too, confused and concerned, but it’s not drowning out Harley’s own alarmed pineapple, in their immediate airspace. “No, it’s, I mean, I know this is like, they don’t teach it in schools, but it’s really well studied.”

“No,” says Harley firmly. His scent is wrong, there’s nothing to be alarmed about here. Peter’s just wrong, that’s all. “You’re wrong. This book is _wrong_.” His voice is rising a little, he can hear it, but Peter’s _wrong_. Bruce and Tony both turn around, he can see them out of the edges of his vision, they turn and they start wandering over, so he tells himself to get a grip and get quiet. “You’re wrong,” he hisses at Peter, glaring at the book. Stupid confused marshmallow.

“No,” says Bruce, reaching out a hand for the book, sliding it across the table to look at the chart. “No, that’s right, Harley,” he says, confusion wrinkling his forehead.

“Oh,” says Peter, and then, to Bruce he hisses, “Oh, Bruce, he didn’t know- she didn’t, she didn’t _tell_ him.”

“Tell him what?” asks Tony, and this is a nightmare, Harley thinks wildly. This is, he doesn’t have to listen to this. He pushes back from the table and stands up, and he can’t help that his hands are making fists, he knows he shouldn’t, but they’re all omegas here, and _he doesn’t have to listen to this_. “Who didn’t tell him what?”

Harley shakes his head and hisses, “ _Don’t_ ,” at Peter, at Bruce. He’s shaking, he can feel it.

“Harley, she never _said_?” asks Bruce, his voice shocked, his face shocked, now, not confused, _shocked._

“And she’s beta, so he wouldn’t scent it, when he switched,” sighs Peter, shaking his head, like what they’re talking about is something that’s _possible_ . The marshmallow smells a little sad, now, and that’s _definitely not okay._ The marshmallow should smell _apologetic_ , for suggesting the idea.

“No,” snarls Harley. “That has nothing to do with anything. You’re _wrong._ ”

“Wrong about what? Scented what?” asks Tony, peering at the textbook over Bruce’s shoulder, shooting Harley a mystified glance. 

“Omega males,” starts Peter, but Harley isn’t listening to this, he doesn’t have to. He just needs to clear his head, his nose, a little, that’s all. He’ll clear his head and then he’ll explain. He backs away, bumping into another station, shaking his head wildly, his heart in his throat.

“Don’t,” he chokes out, warning them away, shaking his head, backing away from them, from the book, arms crossing over his chest. “Don’t say it. It’s not true. You’re _wrong.”_

His brain is whirling, though, remembering, remembering so much, how Ma always seemed so different with him, not like she was with Abby. He’d thought, when he started to slick, he thought maybe it was just that she knew, somehow, that there was something really different about him, or maybe just that he looks so much like his daddy, or maybe just that she blamed him, blamed him for daddy _leaving_. He’s thinking so much, his heart pounding in his ears, and he can feel the whine in his chest, because it’s not true, what Peter is saying, it’s _not_. Harley’s just a messed up kid, he just let her down, that’s all. He’s just not good enough, not like Abby. She just couldn’t connect with him because he’s not beta after all.

“Omega males are whelped from omega females, exclusively,” says Bruce quietly. “It’s, there’s no other way, Tony.”

“I mean, transplant, but no one would _do_ that, they barely do transplants at all,” says Peter cautiously. “They’re not gonna transplant one of _us_.”

Harley glares at them, all three of them standing around the damn book and says, through gritted teeth, “You’re _wrong_.”

“Jesus,” says Tony, rubbing a hand on his mouth, eyes wide and shocked, glancing up at Harley and there’s _pity_ in his expression. “FRIDAY, get Steve here, _now_.”

“You didn’t know?” Peter asks Tony, tentatively. 

“He didn’t know,” says Bruce, still shocked, still horrified, like this is real, like this is happening, like Harley’s mom _did_ _that,_ like she _isn’t_ , “Shit. Shit, I thought- Harley. _Tony_.”

“No!” shouts Harley, because they’re ganging up on him, everyone is ganging up on him, trying to make this thing real, this _wrong_ thing real. “No,” he repeats, pleading, because he knows he shouldn’t shout, he knows that, you don’t shout at your Omega. Tony steps forward and Harley steps back, trying to avoid the other man’s scent, pleading, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout, I didn’t, I won’t do it, just don’t _say_ that, don’t keep _saying_ that, like that.” Like it’s _real._

“Harley,” says Tony firmly, and Harley can’t help it, he shakes his head, and now his breathing feels funny, around the whine, like he’s gonna cry or something. Harley closes his eyes, so he doesn’t have to look and see the compassionate look on Tony’s face, the stricken one on Bruce’s. “Harley,” says Tony, his voice soft and gentle, and much much closer. “No one’s mad you shouted,” he tells Harley, his voice getting closer still. “No one’s mad at you, pup. It’s a shock, you’re allowed a reaction, pup.”

“It’s not true,” pleads Harley, around the whine that escapes, has been escaping. “Please, ‘mega, you tell ‘em.”

“Shh,” soothes Tony. “Alpha will be here in just a minute, just, shh. It’s just a shock, that’s all, you’re just feeling shocked.”

Harley whimpers, because his whole body is shaking, trembling, he feels cold, so cold, all of a sudden, and his heart won’t stop _pounding_. “Please,” he whimpers, “‘mega, you tell ‘em. Tell ‘em they’re wrong.”

“Shh,” soothes Tony, and then his hands are drawing Harley to him, but Harley’s sinking down, pulling back a little, sinking to the floor, away from Tony, because he’s so cold, he needs to wrap up, needs to shrink down and wrap up, he’s so cold, he’s shaking. Tony follows him down, wrapping his arms around Harley, coating him in soothing vanilla, just a little sad, just a little, not enough to _mean_ anything, though. ‘S probably just sad because Harley’s so _cold._ Tony shushes him. “Shh, ommy, I’m here, Omega’s here.”

Harley can’t breathe, his eyes are leaking tears that splash on his arms, on Tony’s arms, as Tony rocks him, just a little.

The door to the lab opens and Steve bursts in, saying quickly, “What happened? Tony?” and sliding to his knees next to Harley, pulling him from Tony’s arms and against his chest, overpowering every other scent with alert-alarmed-apple pie. “He get hurt?”

“Uh, not like that,” says Tony, and Harley shakes his head, _don’t say it, Omega_.

“Please,” he whimpers, finding his voice, “Please, _no_.”

“No, what, pup?” asks Steve, and Harley can feel the rumble start in his chest as his arms tighten around Harley. “What _happened_?” he growls through the rumble. “He’s going into shock state!”

“Uh, we were doing gene work,” says Peter uncertainly, his voice unhappy. Stupid marshmallow, thinks Harley muzzily.

“Steve, did you ever scent his mom on any of that paperwork?” asks Tony, elliptically. “I didn’t, not since his slick, it would have been too faint when he was unscented, first time I met him. I shouldn’t have sent the suit, I should have gone to pick him up. Jesus, Harley, I’m _sorry_.”

Harley shakes his head, drowning out Tony’s voice in the rumble coming from his Alpha, his safe apple pie Alpha, who will tell them they’re _wrong_.

“Okay, enough,” says Steve firmly. “Someone tell me why I’ve got a lapful of shocky pup, right now.”

“His beta mom didn’t whelp him,” says Peter in a rush. “She couldn’t, that’s not, only omegas can whelp omega males, it’s _genetics_ , Alpha.”

There’s a long silence, broken by Harley’s whimpering, “No, they’re wrong, they’re wrong, Alpha, tell ‘em.”

“Bruce?” asks Steve. 

“Yeah, that’s true,” confirms Bruce, and his shocked voice has slid into the same tone as Omega’s, sad and compassionate, Harley hates it, he buries his nose in Alpha’s neck, breathing in the calm, sure apple pie scent there.

“ _Hell_ ,” says Steve.

“She never said anything to him,” Tony says, his voice laced with anger, with disgust. “What a fucking bitch, never said _anything_.”

“No!” shouts Harley, then, tensing in Alpha’s arms, pushing back against the words, the fucking words. His mama is not just some bitch, some bitch who would do that, who would lie to him about something so big. She’s _not._

Steve scruffs him, immediately, shaking him. “I know you’re upset,” he growls, low and dangerous, and it locks Harley in place, overwhelming the nebulous fear with a new kind of immediate fear. “And we’re gonna fix that, but you do _not_ yell at Omega.”

“Jesus, Steve,” says Tony, and Harley can hear the eye roll. “I think he’s allowed a couple of yelps.”

“And I don’t think that does him any favors right now,” Steve tells him in a clipped voice. “You called for me, I’m handling this, now. And you could make it easier by watching what comes out of your mouth, Omega.”

Tony sighs, “Well, yes, that would have been smarter. Harley, I’m sorry I said that, it slipped out.”

Harley shakes his head, because that’s a shitty apology, Tony’s not saying it’s not _true_ , he’s saying _sorry I said it,_ like it _is_ true. Steve squeezes his hand on the scruff of Harley’s neck. “Sorry, ‘mega,” gasps Harley, his thoughts fleeing because Alpha’s _scruffing_ him, and he smells a little ticked, and that’s all the room for thinking he has in his entire brain with the background rumble going on.

“Good ommy,” soothes Tony. “All forgiven, now.” Good. Harley, Harley likes being forgiven. That’s good.

Alpha picks Harley up, standing up, and declares, “Okay, our den, let’s go. I’m not dealing with shock-sick down here. You come too, Peter, Bruce. Might as well make a whole damn parade.”

Harley whimpers, because he hates being carried like this, like he’s weak, but he’s learned not to wiggle, not to try to get down, because Alpha does not _appreciate_ it. And Tony gets carried sometimes, too, and Tony’s the least weak omega Harley’s ever met. He might be the strongest person, period, that Harley’s ever met.

“This is just the stupidest part of how we’re built,” complains Peter in an undertone, exiting the lab behind them. “Shock sick is just stupid.”

“Omegas just feel things stronger than most,” Bruce soothes him. “He’ll need some care and attention, and that’s not a bad thing, we glue the pack together when we need care, make the bond stronger.”

“Yeah, easy to say when it’s not _you_ doing the bonding,” complains Peter and Harley would chuckle and agree, but his head is full of rumble and pain, right now, his chest is tight and he’s whining and he can’t quite remember why, but he hates being carried. He’s not sure why Steve’s apple-pie-exasperated, but he’s really hoping it wasn’t him, this time.

“Oh, I’ve done my fair share,” chuckles Bruce a little weakly. “It’s not easy but nothing omega is ever easy, you notice that?”

“I had,” agrees Tony, his voice sharp. “I had noticed that we seem to draw the short straw on all of the lotteries.”

“Tony,” growls Alpha, “You literally had three kings beg you for your hand in marriage. A man named a solar system after you. I watched an Alpha _give you his jacket_ on the subway just last week when you were cold.”

“Oh, that,” waves Tony. “I mean, yes, there are some compensations.”

“Not enough,” mutters Peter, and Bruce and Tony make sounds of agreement.

“In,” orders Steve, kicking open the door to the Alpha suite. “Everybody in the nest, now.”

“Crap,” says Tony. “It’s all, I didn’t rebuild it.”

“It’s fine,” says Steve impatiently. “Get in.”

Tony grumbles, but they all climb in, Harley watches. They climb in and get settled and then Tony reaches his arms up for Harley. “C’mere, pup,” he says. “Steve, you go tell the others we’ve got a shocky pup. _Explain_ to them _outside_ what’s going on,” he adds. Harley buries his nose in Tony’s calm-vanilla-denned-Omega neck and ignores the feeling like those words, that emphasis, might mean something, something important, something he should be thinking about.

Minutes pass, then, with Bruce and Peter and Tony’s soothing murmurs and petting. Harley’s still cold, but not curl-up-in-a-ball cold, not with the body heat the other omegas are putting out. His head is still rumble-blank, and he’s not pushing past it, not with how cold he feels, he can just stay here, blank, and try to warm up.

Natasha slides in at some point, displacing Bruce, her rumble soothing Harley back down. “Shh,” she says, sliding a hand up to press on his scent spot, releasing the scent of comforted/safe/shocky/pineapple everywhere. “Shh,” she says. “You rest, we’ll talk more later, help you through this. You just rest, ommy, good ommy.”

Harley can feel something in him want to panic but he doesn’t care, there’s an alpha telling him he’s good, he can just, he can just wait until later to find out why he’s upset.

Steve slides in, pushing Tony back over the omega’s protests. He starts up a rumble that almost drowns out Natasha’s and his apple pie is just denned and comfortable and nothing more, just calm apple pie. “Go to sleep,” he tells Harley gruffly. “You sleep, pup.”

Harley nods, because that sounds good, that sounds nice. He closes his eyes again, and listens to the double rumble, and lets himself float off.

  


~~~

  


When he wakes up, he feels like _shit_. His head is pounding, sinuses plugged, he can hardly smell Alpha and his nose is touching the man’s scent pad. He draws a deep breath and starts coughing.

“Shh,” soothes Steve, easing back. “You ok, ommy?”

Harley tries to whine but his throat hurts, so he croaks, “‘m I sick?” Sick would explain all the aches everywhere.

“Kinda,” Steve tells him, “you had a shock to your system, shook you up, wasn’t handled right-“

“Hey,” yelps Omega, behind him, “I called you _right away_.”

“-gonna spend today recovering,” concludes Steve.

“I’m _shocked?”_ asks Harley, horrified. “Like a drippy _girl_?!” He coughs, then, and groans, head falling back on Steve’s chest heavily.

“Omega lib is not really a concept they hit _at all_ in your education, is it?” asks Sam, exasperated. It’s been a long couple months of working together, Harley concedes.

“No, let him keep going,” argues Darcy sarcastically. “I love all the irony.”

“We’ll work on it,” sighs Pepper. “Maybe he just needs to meet more competent professional omegas.”

“Socialization seriously can’t be the solution to everything wrong with the pup,” chuckles Clint. “We’re going to have to branch out to other ideas.”

“It worked for the alpha thing,” says Peter uncertainly.

Harley coughs again, because it’s that or don’t breathe at all, apparently.

“Yeah, sucks to be a drippy _boy_ , doesn’t it?” comments Tony with sharpness that could cut, but he reaches across Steve’s chest to brush back Harley’s hair so Harley can forgive him.

“I’m getting him soup,” announces Clint, sliding out from under Natasha’s legs and crawling over Peter towards the edge of the nest, which has expanded significantly to accommodate the entire pack.

“No, me,” argues Darcy, immediately, sitting up and shedding limbs. There’s a chorus of complaints that makes Harley flinch from all the noise, glancing up at Tony in pleading.

“Settle,” Tony tells the pack, “his head’s killing him, I bet.”

Harley nods and everyone _murmurs_ at him, hands patting what they can reach.

“Poor ommy,” coos Jane, snuggling closer to his feet. “I hate shock sick.”

“Me too,” says Peter. “It’s a stupid vestigial pack mechanism.”

“Oh, stop,” says Steve fondly, “it’s kind of nice, you go all sweet and cuddly.”

“Miserable and achy,” corrects Tony in a voice of horror. “Are you _kidding?_ ”

“I, too, enjoy it,” confesses Thor, and Jane hits him. _Good for her_ , thinks Harley because _seriously?_ His head is going to crack in two!

“You do not,” Jane laughs, as Thor smiles at her sheepishly, “you- oh my God, you’re all knotheads.”

“It’s nice,” disagrees Natasha with a small smile. “Gives us all a chance to slow down and focus on what’s important.”

“Yeah, no,” says Tony decisively. “That’s just, just wildly inappropriate. It’s the _worst_.”

Harley nods, and everyone soothes at him, shushing, hands patting and stroking softly. 

“Why am I shocky?” He whines. “What happened?”

“Ah,” says Tony, and then he and Alpha share a long look as Harley’s stomach bottoms out.

“Obviously nothing good,” says Tony, eventually. “But we’re going to ask a lot of questions before deciding anything, this time.”

“We think, maybe,” rumbles Steve, and Harley sits up a bit to see the alpha’s face, “maybe your mom, who raised you, isn’t the one who carried you.”

“She’s still your mom,” says Tony quickly. “And nothing changes that.”

“Nothing,” agrees Steve, his eyes careful and kind, on Harley’s face. Harley searches his face, and then Tony’s, and he says, “Oh.”

“But we want to ask some questions first, pup,” says Steve carefully.

“If she isn’t, she probably had some good reasons for not telling you,” says Tony, “and we’ll want to know them, right?”

Harley nods, and then drops back to Steve’s chest. That’s… a lot to think about. He blinks, and coughs a little, and scrubs his scent pads on Steve’s chest.

“Brave ommy, strong ommy,” whispers Tony. “So proud of you.” There’s a chorus of whispers in agreement.

Harley nods because it is a lot, a lot to think about. He’s kinda proud Steve isn’t rumbling him senseless, actually, that Alpha thinks he can, uh, process all of that.

Darcy and Clint re-enter the room, balancing the coffee table between them, piled high with comfort food and bowls. “We made every can, jar, and container of soup we could find,” announces Darcy unnecessarily. “Plus munchies.”

“And sweets,” adds Clint, as they set the table down along one side of the nest.

Harley’s not hungry at all until Bruce tells him, “The chicken soup is mine, I bet,” and then he downs two mugs of it while Darcy and Clint coo at him for being so good for them. The soup has just a hint of curry, enough to clear out his nose a little, and then he collapses back down beside Steve, who is munching on a donut.

“I hate this,” declares Harley, and Tony rubs his back a little, sympathetically.

“Yeah, it’s not easy being omega, but at least you don’t have to be an omega _girl_ ,” Jane says brightly.

“You know I’m sorry,” sighs Harley, scrubbing his cheek against Alpha’s chest. “I already was sorry the minute I said it, I didn’t mean it like that, I promise. You know I’m working on it, and I’m _sorry._ ” They’ve had, like, team meetings, about how he’s working on it, and he’s _sick_. Cut him some slack.

She sniffs into her soup but relents a little when he whines miserably at her. He’s so sick, this _sucks_.

  


~~~

  


It ends up not just one day of rest, but two, and he’s drooling on Thor’s chest, eyes half-lidded as Bruce checks him out and tells Omega, “I mean, it’s a biological response, Tony, it doesn’t have to make sense, it’ll stop when it stops.” Harley whimpers because he wants it to stop yesterday, like Steve _said_ it would. Two people make noises of protest and some hands reach over to pat him and he sighs.

“But we’re doing everything right,” protests Tony. Harley agrees. They’re all piled everywhere in the nest, he’s got like four packmates touching him right now, and it’s been 24/7 alpha rumble every time he even looks like he might be thinking of becoming uncomfortable with anything. Anything at all.

“Yes, we are,” says Bruce patiently. “And sometimes shock sick just sticks around for a few days, you know that, it’s happened to you.”

“Yeah, and every time it _sucked_ ,” snaps Tony. Harley nods agreement. This _sucks._

“You’ll be fine,” Bruce tells the both of them and Harley wants to bite him, but he’s not moving. Thor is the warmest, warmer even than Steve. He’s not moving. Tony slides back down until he’s just behind Harley, and that’s pretty good, too. His back was getting chilled. Tony wraps an arm and a leg around Harley, and Harley lets himself drift a bit because he’s fine but this _sucks_.

  


~~~

  


On day three, Harley wakes up with a pounding head and pushes limbs off of him to run for the bathroom. He sicks up twice and then crumbles to the floor, whimpering a little. Within seconds that feel like hours, Steve and Tony are there, like, violating his privacy, calling for Bruce. “This,” declares Tony, “is _not_ normal shock-sick.”

“No,” says Bruce calmly, approaching with a cup of water and pushing Steve and Harley towards the sink. “This is, I mean, it’s still within species parameters. Sometimes people just get hit harder, Tony. Harley’s clearly just a little, uh, more susceptible.” 

“I cannot,” grunts Harley, swishing water and spitting into the sink, Steve’s strong arms holding him upright, because after two days of nothing but soup, he’s a little shaky, “believe my luck.”

“Shh,” says Steve, rubbing his back a little. Harley whines back at him, _Alpha make it better, please_ , a phrase he remembers from his childhood. “Aaalpha,” he whines out loud, because he’s not doing shame. Shame isn’t a thing for him anymore, if he wants his Alpha, he’s whining for him. “Meeegaa,” he whines, because, sure, Steve’s warming up his front, but who’s warming up his _back_?

“Jesus, pup,” huffs Tony, immediately sliding in to bracket him. “You sound like shit. Bruce, seriously, do something.”

“There’s nothing to be done, Tony, he’s not actually sick or injured. It’s gotta work its way out,” says Bruce for the five millionth time.

Harley whimpers, “Make it stop.”

“See?” hisses Tony. “Make it work its way _faster_ , Bruce, you’re a goddamn genius.”

“He’s fine,” protests Bruce. “We’re doing everything right, Tony.”

Tony makes several noises of disgust and disbelief and Harley is in complete agreement. Steve swings him up and doesn’t carry him back to the nest, but rather props him on the toilet and says, “While we’re in here,” in a wry tone of voice. Harley nods, because that’s good, fine, good point, Alpha. He glares at all of them and whines, “Little privacy?”

“Oh, no, you _fell_ ,” accuses Tony, arms crossed. “You _fell_ , and that’s probably a second shock on top of already being shocked. Steve and Bruce, you leave. I’ll turn my back, but you are not falling again.”

Harley whimpers a little, but fine, whatever. Steve and Bruce leave him there with Tony, who, as promised, turns his back while Harley empties his tanks. He is feeling a little dizzy when he stands up again, and Tony’s right there, helping him slide up his boxers, guiding him to the sink while calling for Steve to get his muscles back in with them. 

Harley washes his hands slowly, grateful that JARVIS has the lights on low, and considers how his ma and Abby would have just left him to die in his own bed. This is way better, he can feel the Pack around him and they’re all chatting and bonding and making food and eating food, and someone’s always awake no matter what time he cracks his eyes. Clint does the voices when he reads a book to Peter, something they apparently do every night, and they all watched the Lord of the Rings trilogy from start to finish yesterday, Harley drifting in and out and the sound on low. So this is better than being sent to his room to survive or die trying, but it’s still a stupid thing and he’s probably still gonna die of it.

Steve lifts him up and carries him back to the nest and Harley’s glad he’s given up on shame, because it means he can just be grateful. Hands reach up to help them get situated, and then there’s a Peter blanket being tossed over them, as soft as the marshmallow it smells like. Alpha kisses the top of his head and says, “So sweet, little ommy. You rest. I got you.”

“You’re enjoying this,” Tony accuses Steve, sliding down next to them, wrapping himself around Harley, both of their heads on Steve’s bicep. “I can see it. You’re not even trying to hide it.”

“Just a little,” confesses Steve. “He’s so sweet, and when was the last time we all just, you know, nested up together?”

“You’re a monster,” Tony grumbles, running a callused hand up and down Harley’s side. “Poor ommy,” he says. “You just feel better. You just rest and feel better.”

Sounds good, thinks Harley. 

  


~~~

  


When Steve wakes up, there’s a small crick in his neck and he’s covered in sleepy omega. Harley shifts on his right side and Peter grumbles on his left. He pats them both, which jostles Tony, wrapped around his arm and Harley. Tony blinks and lifts himself up a little to look at Steve. He turns to look at their whole Pack, draped all over the floor to their bedroom, his lips twitching in a smile as he looks back at Steve. Steve smiles brightly because, well, it’s a good Pack, and they’re all together, and he’s never felt as close to people as he feels to these, _his_ _people_ , today. Tony rolls his eyes and whispers, “He better get better today, you are getting fucking smug.”

Steve smiles back, smug.

“Oh, God, I am gonna fuck you so senseless when he’s better,” Tony threatens him, and Steve shifts a little because Tony always, always, keeps promises like that.

The shifting, or the whispering, wakes Harley, and he croaks, “Hey.”

Natasha’s eyes snap open, and Clint’s. Pepper sits up from Tony’s other side and murmurs, “Hey, ommy. How you doing?”

“I feel, uh, okay? Kinda?” says Harley, in a tone of wonder. He winces and cuddles back into Steve’s chest, which has been happening a lot. Steve is not complaining about it.

“Okay?” asks Clint. “That’s, that’s so _good_ , ommy.”

“Yeah,” croaks Harley. “Like, my head isn’t pounding, it just kinda aches a little, and I can smell again.”

“Yesss,” hisses Tony, “Finally! Good job, ommy. You got through it!” He presses a kiss to Harley’s temple and Harley wiggles against Steve’s chest, clearly a little embarrassed. Too bad, thinks Steve. Tony’s been worried sick, like he always is when one of the omegas gets shocked. He’s allowed a few celebratory kisses. “You starving?”

“A little?” replies Harley, and then, more confidently, “A lot. I’m so hungry.”

“Bacon. Bacon and waffles and sausage and gravy and biscuits,” declares Tony. “Peter, Bruce, wake up, Jane, c’mon, we gotta go make breakfast.” He kicks at the feet beside them until the whole Pack is shifting with confusion and early morning anger.

“Get up,” Tony declares brightly. “Omegas in the kitchen, you’re all helping me with breakfast. Alphas, get Harley into the living room, you make him comfortable, he’s had a rough few days. Betas, clean up this nest. Just pile all my stuff by the wall, I’ll rebuild it later.”

Steve notes that while everyone is grumbling and groaning, they’re also moving fairly quickly. Vacation’s over, he sighs, shifting to support Harley to sit up. Back to work. Well, first breakfast, then the grind. He sighs a little as Peter sits up, blinking. “Oh, is he better?” asks Peter, rubbing at his eyes, he’s so adorable, it’s unreal how adorable the omega is. Tony had better find him the sweetest, strongest, nicest alpha in the world, someone who will appreciate just how adorable Peter is, thinks Steve fiercely. “Are you doing better, Harley?” he asks the other omega directly, smiling at him.

Harley nods and stretches, touching one hand out to Sam’s shoulder playfully. “Yeah, just woke up and, like I can breathe again. Feels amazing.”

“That’s great,” gushes Darcy. “You smell like sweet pineapple again, too!” She darts forward to nuzzle against his neck and he nuzzles back. “Mmm,” she says. “I mean, this nest smells amazing. Are you sure we gotta take it apart, Tony? Can’t leave it up for 24?”

“Oh, fine, whatever, I’ll just open a public nest,” says Tony sarcastically while standing, his knees popping, “Lazy beta.”

“I’m not leaving,” declares Clint. “You can bring me breakfast here.” Natasha rolls her eyes and pushes him. He’s gone boneless, so it doesn’t really do much but jiggle his frame. “Leave me alone, alpha,” he complains. “I deserve a vacation, I made soup from scratch yesterday, and I’m taking it right here.”

“Get out of my room, and take your pillows with you,” Tony orders him, pointing to the door in front of him. Steve growls agreement. Get out of _their_ room, Clint. “Omegas, so help me God, if you are not assembled in the kitchen to help me with breakfast in five minutes, I am going to bake poptarts in the oven.”

“No, don’t do that,” says Peter, scrambling up to stand. “I’ll help, I’ll help.”

Jane accepts Pepper’s outstretched hand with a small smile and says, “Yes, Omega, I’m coming. There’s no need to resort to violent food threats. Again.”

“I loved Poptart Feast,” says Thor in confusion. “What was wrong with Poptart Feast?”

“Nothin’,” says Sam. “You just, the man’s _offering_ to make biscuits and gravy.”

“I much prefer biscuits and gravy,” Thor tells the room at large, and then reaches over to haul Bruce up by his arm, instructing the man urgently, “Go. You heard Omega. Go now. You have five minutes.”

“I’m going,” chuckles Bruce. “You go help Steve with Harley.”

Steve doesn’t need help, thanks. He shifts the pup and bounds up to his own feet, shedding blankets and pillows and cushions with ease. He pulls Harley up and into a big hug, scrubbing their scent pads together. “So glad you’re feeling better,” he rumbles, because the pineapple is starting to smell happy and has lost that listless shocked edge to it. “I wasn’t worried, but Tony was impossible.”

Harley shoves him back a little and mutters, “I can smell you, you know, you’re smug as fuck. You _enjoyed_ this.”

“We all did,” says Natasha with a shrug. “There’s a reason it _works_ , Harley.”

“Yeah, a stupid reason,” mutters Harley.

“Welcome to adulthood, kid,” laughs Sam. “It’s a whole bunch of stupid.”

Steve pulls Harley close again and says, “It was no kind of hardship on any of us, to take care of you. You deserve care, omega, whenever you need it, for any reason.”

Harley scrubs his face in Steve’s chest, smelling faintly of embarrassment. “So _drippy_ ,” he sighs, and Steve sighs back because _they’re working on that._ He scruffs the pup and says, “What?” because as with any training, you have to be consistent.

“Sorry, Alpha,” says Harley immediately. “I didn’t mean for you to hear that.”

Sam winces and says, “That’s not the point, Harley.”

Steve cuts over him, because he’s heard _that_ lecture a million times at this point, “What’s wrong with being drippy?” he demands of the pup.

“Nuthin’,” sighs Harley, rolling his eyes. “It’s _great_ being drippy and shock sick and I love bein’ omega, bein’ omega is a fun-filled thrill-packed lifestyle, including throwing up at 3 AM and having someone stand there while I pissed, that was wonderful.”

Steve’s lips twitch but consistency is important. He raises the pup’s chin and corrects, “Being an omega is powerful. _Everyone_ stopped their whole lives for three days to be here, to protect you and take care of you, because you’re worth every second of our time. _Because_ you’re omega."

Harley shifts and nods a little, and mumbles, “Yes, Alpha.” His scent is a little tinged with awe so _lesson accomplished_ , thinks Steve, pulling him into another tight hug. “C’mon,” he tells the pup, “let Thor carry you out to the couches, you can choose the movie.”

“I haven’t run data in three days,” says Harley slowly. “What if- Steve, I should do that before watchin’ a movie.”

“I have run your usual analytics,” offers JARVIS blandly before Steve can growl at the kid to give himself a break. “I was unable to anticipate what new avenues you would explore, but the standard algorithms do not show any movement on the part of our quarry.”

“Oh,” says Harley, and then Thor lifts him up, and begins to carry him from the room. “Hey, Steve, though, what, can I go to the workshop for a minute? I got an idea.”

“Later, pup,” calls Steve back to him. “Breakfast first.” The kid’s not even wearing _pants_ and he wants to head to the lab, he muses, shaking his head a little in wonder.

Pepper sighs and says, “JARVIS, daily schedule routine, walk me through all of the things that have blown up while I get ready for the day?” She steps delicately through the haphazard cushions on the edge of the nest, as Darcy and Clint and Sam begin the process of stacking and sorting through them.

Steve shares a fond smile with her as he says, “Yeah, I’ll head down to the other bathroom and you can update me, too, JARVIS, while you’re at it.” He squares his shoulders as he leaves the room, the Tower already filling with the salty smell of frying bacon and sausage. Enough sweet, slow vacation. Back to work.

  


~~~

  


Tony frowns at the oven timer. Five more minutes on the biscuits. It’ll be tight for perfection, but that’s fine, actually, because the bacon is frying up just a little bit fast, so Peter’s done, he can go cut fruit. He turns to give Peter his next assignment only to find the omega rustling around in the cupboard with the cutting boards, clearly reading his mind. Good. Excellent. An omega who doesn’t know their way around a kitchen and how to make a breakfast feast is a broken fucking omega in need of serious support and training, in Tony’s experience.

Speaking of Harley, “You ready, Harls?” he calls, wandering out into the living room, where Harley is draped over all three alphas on the sectional. Nice to see that they can, indeed, follow directions sometimes.

“I’m so hungry,” the pup whines up at him, eyes a little wide. He’s definitely looking poor-little-rich-pup right now, snuggled in with an embarrassment of alphas, but Tony was _born_ poor-little-rich-pup and those eyes could use some amplification work.   
  
Tony smiles down at Harley and says, “Get one of your loyal subjects to haul you to the kitchen, then, I’ll load you up a plate. We made enough for seconds.”

“It would be an honor to carry you to breakfast, omega,” says Thor quietly, firmly, and in no way staking a claim like a knothead idiot. Or, wait, what’s that? _Exactly_ staking a claim like a knothead idiot. The other two alphas immediately bristle, because of course they fucking do, the pup is in their laps, too, Thor. How Tony went from any easy-breezy pack of two betas to an unmanageable harem of effing alphas everywhere is still a daily amazement. He’s a Mensa-certified genius, what had he been _thinking_?

“Gang, the biscuits are out of the oven, which means they’re going stale and cold,” Tony informs them, over their bickering. All four heads swivel to look over at him, Natasha’s lip descending from its snarl as she corrects her emotional course because, yes, Lady Alpha, Tony _is_ the one providing the gravy today, don’t get snarly at him. “Settle your pissing contest faster.”

“I spoke first,” states Thor firmly. “You can carry him next time.”

“Or I could walk?” offers Harley. The amount of scoffing that can be heard _from the kitchen_ is what’s really amusing, Tony decides. Nice try, pup.

“No walking,” states Steve firmly. “Not until after breakfast, anyway,” he concedes, as Harley looks up at him with those poor-little-rich-pup eyes. Tony is seriously going to have to take the boy aside at some point and teach him how to combine a little pout with the eyes for maximum effect. Talk about self-defense against alphas, a good poor-little-rich-’mega look has gotten Tony out of _so much trouble_ , over the years. “You spent the last three days falling over,” Steve continues, as Thor bounds to his feet, Harley in his arms rolling his eyes. “It’s just safety.”

  


~~~

  


Everyone’s started on seconds and been flattering in the sheer amount of drooling and shoving things into their mouth that they’re been doing. Breakfast success. Tony pushes his chair out, patting his stomach because _good little food baby_ , yum yum yum _._ “So, clearly we’ll pencil in a visit to Rose Hill for, uh, next week or something,” he sighs. Harley doesn’t even stiffen, from where his head is resting heavily on top of Sam’s shoulder. There’s still a biscuit in one of his hands, but he’s been holding it for the last full minute without any attempt to bring it to his mouth, so Tony’s pretty sure the pup is done eating.

“Next month, by preference, Tony,” sighs Pepper. “I’ll work on it today, Harley. But probably next month, unless you feel this needs to be addressed immediately.”

“Naw,” sighs Harley. “It’s, we don’t have to go _at all_. Past is past, you know?”

“We’re going,” says Steve firmly. “I want to know what her very good reasons are.”

“Probably just never, you know, thought it mattered,” mutters Harley, lifting the biscuit to his lips for the tiniest nibble Tony’s ever seen. “She took care of me, like I was hers,” he says, “that’s the important thing, I guess.”

Tony shakes his head, slotting Steve a look that he hopes clearly conveys, _Like fuck she did_. Tony’s going, there’s words he needs to share with the woman. Strong words.

“We’re going,” says Steve again, to both of them this time. “But no rush, Pepper, schedule it when you can.”

She nods and then stands, sighing. “Back to the grind. Thank you, omegas. This was delightful.”

Peter and Bruce color up but Jane smiles cheerfully and wiggles her fingers in acknowledgement, gnawing on another rasher of bacon. Tony nods and tilts his head back for her goodbye-going-to-work kiss. She drops one on his lips, mmmm-beta-kiss, and then sways her way out of the kitchen. Ten bucks says she puts on the Gucci, sniggers Tony in his head, because the Gucci is her most waistline-forgiving fierce-boss-don’t-test-me-today outfit.

“I’m walking to the workshop,” announces Harley. “After I go brush my teeth and get dressed by myself.”

There’s a few noises of protest from around the table, but everyone is sluggish and there’s a couple of head nods, too. Tony tells him, “Sure. You feeling steadier now?”

Harley takes stock, lifting his head off of Sam’s shoulder for the first time in several minutes. “Yeah,” he says. “Much.”

“Well, then the rest of the omegas can help with KP while you go hit the showers,” says Tony reasonably. 

Peter and Jane perk up brightly, making happy little omega noises. “My playlist?” Jane asks Peter. Tony resigns his ears to bleeding for the next half-hour, because neither one of them understands the beauty of classic rock cleaning.

Peter smiles, “Yeah, I could use some Aqua.”

_Hell._ Tony shooes the rest of the team from the table to go loaf around digesting and checking their email or whatever they need to do while Bruce begins to collect empty plates that have, in one or two cases, already been licked clean. Clint is a savage, but Tony’s willing to overlook it because it’s flattering.

Harley hauls himself to his feet and exits the kitchen, and Tony’s totally not following him, but it’s the first time he’s let the kid out of eyesight since that fall in the bathroom, so it’s just prudence, okay? It’s not hovering, to stand in the kitchen doorway and watch the pup walk away.

“He’s fine,” Steve murmurs, wrapping arms around Tony’s waist and nuzzling his neck.

“I know,” Tony protests. “I know that.” He does.

“C’mon, Omega,” says Steve firmly, taking a step back and pulling Tony back with him, in the direction of their rooms. “You have a nest to re-build, don’t you?”

“Uh, yeah, but that can-” Tony twists and then catches a hit of Steve’s scent. _Oh_. Oh, yeah, someone can _not_ wait, huh? He switches course on the sentence like a champion at linguistic gymnastics, “get addressed first thing, Alpha. Top priority.”

“Need some help with lifting those heavy cushions?” asks Steve, a small smile twitching his lips. He has to know what he smells like, right? He has to be aware of it. You can’t walk around smelling that good and not know it.

“Yes,” declares Tony. “They’re so heavy. Need muscles.” Big, strong, super-Alpha muscles. 1000% necessary. 1,000,000% necessary. Right now.

“Bye, Tony,” laughs Bruce. “We got this.”

Good. Steve crooks a finger at Tony and Tony knows it’s a cheap move out of corny movies and bad omega novels, but he definitely feels the pull of that finger guiding him forward, and he’s definitely not going to fight it even a little. “Mmm, Alpha,” he purrs, because it’ll make Steve light up red.

Steve’s blush is an artwork, as he takes several slow steps backwards and smiles almost shyly at Tony, “Yes, my Omega?” he asks, his voice low and a little rough, just the way Tony loves it best.

“Take me to bed, let me show you a good time?” offers Tony, which, while not his best line, has all this history behind it, now, between them. He watches the words shock into Steve and lets his lips curve upwards wickedly. Steve’s still moving them backwards as his eyes drift down to Tony’s lips, right where Tony wants them. He licks over them, loud and lewd in the empty hallway.

“Oh, doll,” says Steve, in the gruff voice that absolutely does _things_ to Tony’s spine and definitely makes his feet speed up on their path. “Yeah, you can show me all kinds of things.”

Well, it’s fucking awful, but it is the traditional response, and after this much time, Tony’s not going to start complaining. Not when he could be showing Steve all kinds of things, anyway. Not when that’s on offer. He knows it’s half just sheer distraction on Steve’s part but he doesn’t care. He could use some distraction, anyway. Nothing like endorphins for helping clear the head of nebulous worries.

Tony smiles up at Steve as the other man palms open the door and steps inside their suite. Pepper’s in the shower, but she’ll hear them when she gets out and make a call on whether she wants in this morning or not. It won’t be the first time she’ll walk to the office elevator strictly on time and a little flustered, covered in their mingled scents, and that always works out great for Tony on her lunch break later. Win, win, win.

“I like winning,” he confesses to Steve, as Steve starts to strip off the pajamas he’s wearing. Good idea. Tony goes to lift his shirt only to find Steve’s hands there first.

“I like it more,” says Steve, voice as gruff and growly as it can get before the actual fireworks start. Tony shivers and lets the wicked smile drift just a little wider, dropping his pants to the floor.

“Oooh, Alpha,” he cooes, to make the other man twitch violently and shove him towards the bed. Works like a charm, he laughs to himself, letting the shove propel him out of the pants pooled at his feet. Steve’s so fucking predictable, it’s amazing. “Let me show you _everything_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I'm just having so much fucking fun.


End file.
